Mrs Sherlock Holmes
by JackDuggan
Summary: Circa 1950, Dr Watson reveals the secret of Holmes 60-odd year marriage.


**MRS SHERLOCK HOLMES**

CIRCA 1950

Now that Holmes and I have both entered our tenth decade, with Maria just a few years behind us, and Mycroft (who, for many years now, has been _Sir_ Mycroft Holmes, Bart.) a mere three years short of his century, we have finally deemed it safe for me to once more put pen to paper, and to reveal a very long and very closely-kept secret. Some of my readers, I daresay, will be astonished; others, no doubt, will say that 'they always thought'. Well, it can make no manner of difference nowadays. The simple fact of the matter is that, for many years of our association, completely unbeknownst to all but a chosen (very) few people, Holmes was – and still is – a married man.

It will, of course, be obvious as to why we felt it necessary to keep the matter so completely quiet; as everyone knows, Holmes had his enemies. Even after the infamous Professor Moriarty and his cohorts had been finally laid to rest, the opportunities for the criminal classes would have been legion. Holmes and Mycroft (not to mention myself) were well-nigh obsessed with Maria's safety, and even Inspector Lestrade, old sceptic that he was, fully agreed with them that Maria should be kept as much as possible in the background. So, as to how the situation arose…..

It was an afternoon in April 1888, when, to our great astonishment, Mr Mycroft Holmes fairly burst into our sitting-room at 221B Baker St. As the reader will no doubt be aware, he so very rarely strayed from his orbit of Pall Mall and Whitehall, that it was therefore evident that something greatly out of the ordinary was afoot. Even more astonishingly, he was escorting a young lady who appeared to be having what, in those days, was usually termed 'an attack of the vapours'. Indeed, so distraught did she appear to be that I assumed she was in need of my professional attention and I was approaching her, watch in hand, when Mycroft waved me away in some alarm.

"Not for your life, John!" he exclaimed. The unprecedented use of my Christian name further betrayed his unwonted agitation. "The state she's in at the moment, she'd likely break your jaw if you so much as laid a finger on her!"

"Oh, for shame, Mike!" retorted the lady, from amidst the folds of a capacious handkerchief. She emerged from the said article, blowing her nose, and attempting a watery smile. "I only break _one_ man's jaw a day," she continued, "and I've done that already today".

I stared in astonishment, but Mycroft was now smiling, and Holmes making an unsuccessful attempt not to. "Her father's butler," explained Mycroft. "I doubt that Maria has actually done him any serious injury, but he may well have a very fine black eye by now!"

"Yes, well, he shouldn't have tried to prevent my leaving the house – let alone laid hands on me," retorted the lady spiritedly. At this point, Mrs Hudson brought in the tea-tray, which provided a welcome diversion. I added a dash of brandy to Maria's cup, and noted with great relief that her agitation seemed to be quickly subsiding.

"In brief, gentlemen," explained Mycroft, "Maria here burst into the Diogenes Club just under an hour ago. She was almost in hysterics – and that's totally out of character, Doctor, bye the bye – and demanding to see me. You can imagine the furore _that_ caused" he added with a chuckle, "but fortunately I was on the point of leaving, so I was able to take full charge of the situation. I bundled her into a cab, and brought her straight here – my own lodgings would be the _first_ place where that fiend of a father of hers would look for her."

"He'll soon figure out exactly where Maria is, I expect, but I very much doubt if he'll dare to come here!" replied Holmes grimly. "I've crossed swords with Cousin James before today," he continued. "You see, Watson, Maria here is a very distant cousin of ours. Her great-grandfather and our grandfather were cousins, making us third cousins once removed.

"Now, Maria," he addressed her, reaching across the table and clasping the lady by both hands, "as Mycroft has just said, it's not at all like you to allow yourself to become so upset by anything. What on earth has your father done this time? Something to do with your inheritance I daresay?"

"Well, yes, that's at the bottom of it, of course, as usual - but there's a great deal more to it _this_ time," replied Maria decisively. She addressed herself once more to her tea-cup, and Mycroft took up the tale again.

"Maria has a large sum of money settled on her by her grandfather," he explained to me. "Her own father is a terrible wastrel - and her mother's just as bad, if not worse. They're completely feckless, the pair of them. The old man settled money on Cousin James, of course, but, knowing only too well what a spendthrift James is, he tied up the capital so that James can't spend it, and has only the interest on which to live. I say 'only'; it furnishes him with a considerable income, I understand; but nonetheless, James is constantly in debt up to his neck. Now Maria's money, apart from a small portion of the interest, cannot be touched until she marries. I think, Maria, that you should be the one to tell of what transpired this morning."

Maria finished her second cup of tea, blew her nose, and faced us all squarely. Although, I now noticed, she was very dowdily dressed, she really was a most attractive young lady, even with the ravages of grief still apparent on her face. She set her chin determinedly, and began.

"As Mycroft correctly says, my parents can't touch my money, do what they will. It's beyond their reach entirely, at least for the moment. When I came of age, the trustees decided to make me a monthly allowance out of the interest - about a quarter of the actual sum, I think. The remainder is banked in a deposit account – my father would only take it from me otherwise. As it is, he demands most of my allowance from me as soon as it's paid – but that's neither here nor there. But this morning," she continued, becoming slightly vehement, "he told me that he has arranged a marriage for me. My prospective _husband_ ," she fairly spat the word, "has promised him that upon our marriage he will take things into his own hands, and he will give my father _all_ of my money to help him out of the hole he's dug himself into."

"But surely," I interrupted "the Married Women's Property Act….."

"Oh, don't imagine for a moment that that would weigh with those two!" retorted Maria bitterly. "They'd arrange it all to suit themselves, and they would make very sure that I had no say whatsoever in any part of it – but that's by no means the worst of the matter..."

"Sherlock and Dr Watson don't know the name of your intended," cut in Mycroft. Maria nodded.

"Yes, well, I was just coming to that. And that, far more than the matter of the money, was what overthrew my mind so. It was like being in some terrible nightmare to hear my father saying such things, and my mother agreeing with him on every point! I know, of course, that they can't force me to marry against my will; it's illegal, and of course the Law would step in, but that my own father could even _think_ of such a thing – and that my mother should agree to it – well, I won't do it! The man's name is," she almost choked on a sob, "Sir Rowland Carstairs!"

There was a shocked silence. Holmes turned a sickly white, and I felt my gorge rise. "That old….reprobate!" I spluttered in dismay. I had actually been on the point of using a much stronger word, not at all suitable for ladies' ears. "Why, he's sixty if he's a day, and….."

"Rotten with money, drink, opium and syphilis – and the Lord alone knows what else!" supplied Mycroft grimly. "We must find Maria a safe refuge, take out a Court order to keep Cousin James away from her, and let Carstairs know that he must look elsewhere in the marriage mart!"

"He'll have some job on," muttered Maria. I was becoming aware of a Northern inflection in her speech, and later learned that, though her parents resided mainly in London, they had an estate in Lancashire, where Maria had hitherto spent most of her life.

"I met him once," she continued, turning towards me. "I hadn't heard the stories about him then, but you can see the kind of person he is, just by looking at him – debauched, depraved, drink-sodden, and generally loathsome! Nor am I surprised to hear that he's diseased into the bargain – and that makes the whole thing doubly worse – that sort of thing's catching, isn't it?" she appealed to me.

"Oh, indeed it is, certainly between man and wife," I replied. "How your father could even contemplate such a marriage for you is beyond me entirely." I looked at Holmes, who was still looking rather ill. "Well," I continued, "I'm definitely with all of you in this matter. It's totally inhuman. But, thankfully, as Maria is of age, she is free to leave the family home; her parents have no say, legally, in her affairs."

"Someday in the distant future," mused Mycroft, "there will be laws to protect minors – and younger children, for that matter, against the dictates of cruel and unreasonable parents. But for now, Sherlock," he continued, rising to his feet, "we will leave our little cousin with Dr Watson here, and go along to collect all her effects from Cousin James' house. I shall have a few words to say to that gentleman – and his good lady – and I'm very sure that you will wish to add _your_ two-pennorth, Sherlock!" This witticism made the four of us laugh out loud.

So wheels were set in motion and Maria was, for a time, established in a small genteel hotel for ladies. Her income, rescued from her parents' clutches, was more than adequate to support her there, and she began sporting new and fashionable attire – her taste in everything was excellent. A Court Order forbade Mr or Mrs James Holmes to approach the premises, or to accost Maria in any public place, and a similar Order was taken out against Carstairs. Holmes also invoked the assistance of Inspector Lestrade. Once the situation had been fully explained to that gentleman, he willingly paid visits to Maria's parents, and to Carstairs, and, as he afterwards expressed it to us, he 'read them the Riot Act'. "How _any_ parent could even _think_ of such a thing is quite beyond all my experience," he informed us. "And yet, as we all know, there are some people who will do absolutely _anything_ for money – except, of course, _work_ for it!"

Holmes, Mycroft and I all kept in close touch with Maria, visiting her regularly at her hotel or meeting with her in Town whenever possible. She was - and is - a most delightful person, well-educated, with striking good looks, a keen sense of humour, and a large fund of common-sense. She was feisty, too, and possessed of considerable physical strength. It transpired that she had indeed given her father's butler what the man himself described as 'a gorgeous shiner' when the said person approached her, some weeks later, for a reference. In his rage and despair at losing his daughter's money, Mr James Holmes had wreaked his temper on the poor fellow by dismissing him without a character, ostensibly because he had failed to prevent Maria from leaving the house on the fateful morning.

"But believe you me, if I'd only known, at the time, what it was all about, Miss Maria," he earnestly assured her, "I'd never have even _tried_ to stop your leaving the house that day; no, I'd have gone along _with_ you and seen you safely to your friends, that I would, and bugger the master – begging your pardon, Miss. All of the servants, once they knew what the master was about, said that it was a downright shame and a wicked scandal – and as for that old rogue Carstairs, he should be shot and put out of his misery!" Maria immediately engaged the butler for her own establishment, which, by then, she was in the process of setting up. He subsequently married Maria's cook, and they were most loyal and devoted retainers. Upon retirement, they remained close friends of the family, and took our secret to their graves.

Now, Holmes was, as oft-stated, _not_ a ladies' man; apart from a few isolated exceptions, he had an innate dislike and distrust of women in general. Maria, however, was most definitely not in the common mould. She had been a great favourite of his while she was still a child, and, as already described, she had matured into a most engaging young lady. She and Holmes had a great deal in common, and they held long conversations about old friends and family, childhood interests and old associations. Holmes played the violin, Maria the pianoforte and they both had a great love of the arts in general. Maria introduced Holmes to the books she loved so much, thereby greatly widening his general outlook, and, perhaps best of all, she constantly made him laugh loud and long – and that was good to hear! I began to cherish hopes, and by July, it was quite plain what was in the offing. At the end of that month Maria and Holmes were very quietly married by the Registrar. Only myself, Mycroft Holmes, Mrs Hudson, Wilson (the butler), and Inspector and Mrs Lestrade were present, but the wedding breakfast did not lack for jollity on that account!

Maria had availed herself of her own funds to purchase and furnish a charming house set in several acres of land. It is in a quiet part of Sussex, on the South Downs overlooking the English Channel, about five miles from Eastbourne. There she could live quietly enough, yet be close to all amenities, and be only a train-ride away from London. We are all now living out our retirement there, among Maria's flowers and Holmes' bee-hives. There have been children – I will not particularize, but they are well-known in their respective fields of art, literature, science and the law, also grandchildren ditto, and, very recently, to the great joy of us all, a great-grandchild who is the pride of Holmes' heart and the apple of Maria's eye. Also, we have Hetty.

Hetty! Now _there_ hangs a tale – or, you might perhaps say, a tail!

It will be appreciated that in some of my accounts of our doings I have needed to be a little economical with the truth, in order to avoid any mention of Maria. You must not suppose that she spent long lonely weeks in her Sussex home whilst Holmes and I were in London; no, there was constant to-ing and fro-ing between the two homes by all three of us. She was often involved, usually, to be sure, in a purely advisory capacity, in many of Holmes' cases. Her sound Northern common-sense and extremely sharp wits were frequently very useful to us indeed.

She happened to be present at our Baker Street lodgings on the day Dr Mortimer first visited us regarding the affair of the Hound of the Baskervilles, and it was Maria who immediately banished any superstitious qualms and put us firmly onto the right track. It was a most simple deduction; when Dr Mortimer so ominously informed us that the tracks found by Sir Charles' body were 'the tracks of a gigantic hound' Maria, far from being awestruck by the revelation, at once commented in her usual down-to-earth manner, "Well, however big a hound it is, if it leaves tracks it's a living creature, and we ought to be able to deal with it!"

Maria travelled to Dartmoor as the guest of Dr and Mrs Mortimer. I, and later Holmes, after he had revealed his presence on the moor, conferred with her on all aspects of the case. On the night that Stapleton sent the hound after Sir Henry, Maria was already abroad on the moor. She was – and, for her age, still is – a splendid horsewoman. Unbeknownst to Holmes (who would have locked her in the cellar had he known what she purposed!), she rode out to deal with the hound should it appear. And in what style! Holmes and I took guns – Maria took meat! And, what is more, in considerable quantity! When Holmes and I finally came upon the three of them, the hound was not (as stated in my original account) worrying at Sir Henry, but was busily demolishing several links of black pudding, having already devoured two large beef-steaks. Once it had finished wolfing down the puddings, Maria delegated Sir Henry to present it with a large marrow-bone, which was accepted almost graciously. The creature seemed to be completely unconcerned about the flesh-wound which Holmes had indeed dealt it as it crossed our path, but that was the full extent of the damage it sustained. Maria was most adamant that it should suffer no further harm.

"There is nothing the matter with this poor creature but abuse, neglect and starvation," she announced firmly. "It shouldn't suffer for its master's wickedness; I can put it to rights." She won the day, and the hound, unbidden, followed her back to Baskerville Hall like a pet puppy. Maria dressed its wound, and subsequently cared for it and trained it. The poor tormented brute returned her care and attention with gratitude, affection and absolute loyalty. It settled into a docile, faithful and affectionate creature and was, if anything, a little on the shy side. Once it was fully restored to health, Maria took it back to her home in Sussex.

The hound was actually a bitch and Maria named her Henrietta, which was soon shortened to Hetty. She never again showed any savagery, although Maria opined that she never actually had. "I'll lay odds," she declared, "that if poor Sir Charles had stood his ground, spoken to her and given her a pat or two, she'd not have touched him. If he'd then taken her to the kitchen, fed her and washed that filthy phosphorus off her face, he'd have turned the tables on Stapleton, I'll warrant!"

Hetty lived for fifteen years with Maria. On one occasion only, she evaded her mistress's watchfulness and some weeks later produced two puppies – one male and one female. The male was eagerly snapped up by a local game-keeper, and Sir Henry and Lady Baskerville (yes, he did marry Beryl Stapleton and they are godparents to Holmes' and Maria's children), paying a visit around the time that the pups were weaned, spoke for the female.

When Hetty was finally gathered to her ancestors, Maria wrote to tell the Baskervilles and a few days later they arrived in person bringing a puppy who, they informed us, was Hetty's grand-daughter. Smaller than her notorious grand-dam she became Hetty III (her mother being Hetty II), and so it has gone on down the years, Maria and Sir Henry exchanging puppies. We are currently in possession of Hetty X, she is about the size of a retriever, but as for her pedigree…! When Maria is asked her breed she replies "British bitsa", then expounds "bitsa this, bitsa that and bitsa t'other!" Hetty X, like her forebears, is a most faithful and affectionate creature who guards the great-grandchild - and Holmes' beehives - devotedly.

We have had happy times here - and still do! The house, even today, is somewhat isolated from its neighbours (although the advent of the motor-car has greatly alleviated that situation), but it is always warm and welcoming – the gardens a blaze of colour in summer, the house alight with big fires and good cheer in the winter. Of course, it is _people_ who make a home, and ours is full of love and friendship. Holmes and Maria have now been wed for a little over sixty years (their Diamond Wedding celebrations lasted for a week!)

The only time that the house was ever closed up was after Holmes disappeared – presumed dead – after his encounter with Moriarty at the Reichenbach Falls. During his long absence, I had no idea where Maria (and, of course, Hetty) had gone to; even Mycroft (whom, bye-the-bye, Maria still mischievously addresses as 'Mike') could not, or, as it later transpired, would not, enlighten me.

"It had to be so, John," Maria later explained to me. " _I_ knew, of course, that Sherlock was alive and well, but I wasn't at liberty to say so, and I wouldn't act the grieving widow; that would have been such a deceitful thing to do."

"I doubt that you _could_ have done it," I reassured her. "You have many talents, Maria, but deceit isn't one of them." That was no flattery, believe me! A great lady is Maria Holmes; a very great lady indeed, as everyone, apart from her despicable but now long-dead parents, would agree; even, or indeed, particularly, the Hound of the Baskervilles!

8


End file.
